A Lot Like Love
The coffee does its job. When she detects a faint lightening in the sky, she goes to the kitchen to make another. Tolly has slept soundly through the night, hardly stirring. She likes that in a bedfellow, not that she stays the entire night with many men. And not that she and Tolly will be sharing a bed anytime soon. She checks the time. Another hour should see him clear of any risk of respiratory crisis, although she suspects she would already be seeing a worsening of other signs if he were heading that way. The last time she listened to his chest, the breaths were low-pitched and soft, entirely normal.
Keeping her vigil alone in the night, she has had plenty of time to consider what comes next. Never has she been so tempted by someone as she is by Tolly. When she looks at him, she feels things. And those things feel a lot like love. All because of a kiss. Except that kiss was a magical kiss, the kind that inspires poets to pen sonnets. Whoever was that poet who preferred kisses to wisdom? Because now Anna understands. If she had gone from the kiss onwards, she, too, would have sacrificed wisdom. Thank heaven for a kiss interrupted. It gives time for thought. And thought gives birth to restraint.
Still, here Anna is, contemplating changing her entire life. Her eyes rest on his chest, slowly moving up and down with those vital breaths. How much is Anna prepared to risk the life she has built, everything she has worked for, everything she has ever wanted for an affair with this man? The question has always been easy to answer in the past. She has never met anyone worth it. But then she had never before been kissed by the Sexiest Man Alive.
She is tempted. She is so very tempted.
The distance between their homes, the gulf of the Atlantic Ocean, while great, matters less than normal. Mr Darcy had it right in Pride and Prejudice when he said, “ What is fifty miles of good road? ” Except here, it is what is five thousand miles of good airlines? Distance is reduced by money and Tolly has enough of that.
But the final complication is Eleanor. Eleanor who dated Tolly, who had her own taste of his kisses. Her sister, whom Tolly left to come here. Anna understands Tolly’s choice of career over romance. Although, after spending time with him, she is even more convinced it is an odd choice for him – entirely out of character. He is the type to run through airports for a last kiss, to shower a loved one with gifts, and, like the day they have just spent together, to plan a plethora of surprises. Anna may be a hard-nosed cynic, but Tolly isn’t. And strangely, she likes that.
But how would Eleanor react to a relationship between her and Tolly? Clearly, since Eleanor is married to Jacob, she has moved on with her life. But Anna is not na?ve enough to believe just because someone has a new partner, they are no longer affected by an ex. Is the possibility of something with Tolly worth the bonfire of her sister’s happiness? On that, Anna is less secure.
When Tolly wakes, they will need to have a conversation. For Anna is extrapolating too much from one kiss and one question. Although her senses tell her he feels as she does. She could not mistake the ardency in their kiss. And he has put his trust in her to keep him safe in what must have been a scary experience. If he hadn’t, he would still be awake and fretting about every problem.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock. Of course, Tolly probably has a housekeeper. She shoots out of her chair and is closing the door to the living room softly behind her when a tall man with bulging muscles squeezing out of a too-tight T-shirt pushes a box through the door with his feet. His tattooed arms are wrapped around another box.
“Who are you?” she asks the stranger, looking directly at him. She uses her no-nonsense voice, usually reserved for idiotic medical students or recalcitrant patients.
“Mike,” the intruder answers automatically. “Mr Hyde’s personal trainer.”
“Ah,” she says. “Tolly won’t be needing you today.”
Mike eyes her suspiciously. She can see the calculations going through the guy’s head. Her use of his employer’s first name. Her presence in the house. Counterbalanced by the obvious absence of his employer. And her rumpled, kayaked-in, been-dressed-in-the-same-clothes-for-twenty-four-hours state.
“Tolly’s sick,” she says. She wishes she had thought to bring the stethoscope with her to underline her authority. “He’ll probably be okay for training tomorrow, although expect him to tire easily for a week or so. But he’s in no fit state today.” She moves to stand in front of the entranceway, one hand on the open door.
Mike backs up. One step, then another. When he has retreated far enough, Anna pushes his remaining box out of the door and shuts it firmly. She returns to her patient, who is still happily snoozing, oblivious to the world. She does a quick check of his pulse oximeter and listens to his chest, pre-warming her stethoscope so the cold does not wake him. The best thing Tolly can do is sleep and allow his healthy body to cleanse his system of the toxins. The longer he sleeps, the better. She takes it as a good sign that his internal body clock hasn’t woken him.
She curls back up on the chair. It is no longer necessary to watch him. He is past the point of worsening symptoms and on to recovery. By late evening, all his symptoms should have resolved. Picking up her phone, she scrolls, catching up on her family and friends across the other side of the world. At one point, she likes a post from her Jasmine and is surprised when her phone starts to vibrate in response.
She answers quickly and, before the video call can wake her patient, walks back into the hallway.
“This is unusual,” she says, keeping her voice low and facing away from the lounge. “I’m in LA.”
“I know,” Jasmine replies. Her sister sounds serious. But then again, Jasmine normally sounds serious. “You’re on a plane home tonight?”
“Yes. Is there something wrong?”
“Sort of, but not urgent. When you get back, I think you need to go and see Eleanor.”
“Why?” This is unusual. Jasmine has minimal contact with their family. It is normally Anna coaxing or forcing Jasmine into some form of communication. And Jasmine hasn’t set foot in Larkford Park, the family estate, since she buried her friend.
“Jacob called me. He was concerned about her. I went to see her.” Straight away, Anna bumps up the seriousness of the issue. Jasmine had taken time out of her campaign to go and see Eleanor. Moreover, Jasmine had gone to see Eleanor in Larkford. She would have thought nothing greater than the death of a parent would have achieved that. Anna stands up straighter as Jasmine continues, “She’s been trying for a baby. Did you know that?”
“No. But I’m not surprised. She and Jacob have been married a while now.”
“I thought she might have told you.”
Anna shrugs. “It’s not something couples tend to announce to the world. They usually keep their decision to themselves until they are forced to tell everyone their expectations.”
“You aren’t funny,” Jasmine chides her older sister. “Nor is this. Eleanor has miscarried twice. I’m telling you because you are the medic in the family. If anyone can help her, you can. But I haven’t mentioned it to the twins, nor to our parents.”
Anna shudders at the thought of the reactions of each. Lily would probably cry in empathy. Phoebe, lacking the imagination to feel for others, would be heartlessly unsympathetic. Their mother would despair of an heir to the Larkford Estate and their father, a veteran fixer, would be booking Eleanor into a Harley Street clinic. She has to admit, if she had been Jacob, she might well have called Jasmine too.
“Thank you for telling me,” Anna says. “I’ll try to get home as soon as I’m off, but I know I’m pretty fully loaded when I get back. Perks of being away.” With both her and James out, staffing would have been tight.
“Okay.” Jasmine has a little worried furrow above her brow. “But as soon as. Promise?”
“Promise. Now go and get your candidate elected so you can get away from that bastard,” Anna says with more light-heartedness than she feels.
Jasmine rolls her eyes and disconnects, leaving Anna alone in the foyer. She doesn’t immediately return to her patient. She stands where she is, her heart heavy.
This changes everything.
She may want to fantasise about a future for her and Tolly, one where Eleanor comes around to full acceptance. But there is no way she can add more to her Eleanor’s current burdens. She remembers her stint in obstetrics and gynaecology. She has seen the women sobbing their hearts out, sitting on a hospital bed, waiting for a dilatation and curettage after miscarriage. While she may not want children herself, she understands other women’s longing for a baby and the desperation and devastation when it all goes wrong. What sort of sister would she be to add this news to Eleanor’s suffering? There is no way she and Tolly can continue past this brief encounter. Easier for it to remain a single date, that neither of them thought was a date, and a single kiss. Nothing has happened. She tells herself the lie. What they have is nothing more than a possibility of a future. Best it stay that way. When Tolly wakes, she will tell him she is leaving. For her, at least, there will be things to cushion the heartache. She will remain an excellent doctor; love will have no hold on her. And Eleanor will recover in peace, untroubled by reminders of Tolly.
She turns, about to return to her sleeping patient, but halts when a heavy thud lands on the entrance door. She pulls the catch back to open it, recognising the man on the doorstep. Tolly’s agent.
She searches her memory. “Brian?” she asks.
“Ryan,” he corrects, that one word threaded with hostility. Then his face fixes into a snarl. “Where is he?”